Ginny Weasley and the Enchanted Diary
by Brynmor
Summary: Ginny manages to fight the Diary before petrifying Hermione, and kills the Basilisk. Non-canon interpretation of the Hat's function and origins - but Hat is not super OP with magic. Starts off with a few snippets of conversations Ginny had, showing how she grew up on the Boy Who Lived.
1. Chapter 1

"Once upon a time, there lived a small boy, with messy black hair, bright green eyes, and a lightning bolt scar on his forehead. This boy was a hero - he had saved the world! His name was Harry Potter, and he was very powerful and rich, but he was also good, and kind. Even though he was very famous, he was never proud or rude - and he never lost his temper. He helped old ladies out of the Floo, rescued kittens from trees, always said Please and Thank-you- Ugh, Ginny, is this really what you want every night? This is sickening, he sounds dreadful!"

"No he isn't! He's wonderful!"

"Well, he's probably better than you and Ron, I admit…."

"Well of course he is, he's better'n everyone! I want more! Read more!"

"Uh uh, what's the magic spell?"

"Fine, _please_ finish reading the story, Bill"

"Oh, all _right_ then. Sure you wouldn't rather a story about the Evil Vampire Bat Snape though? Or even Babbity Rabbity?"

" _Yes_ I'm sure!"

"Fine, fine. I'm not doing this every night though! He always helped out washing the dishes, even though he was very famous - _really_ Ginny? Fine, fine, though this is gonna make me sick. One day, something very dreadful happened."

"You skipped some! I know it!"

"Yes but...it was only going on about how he always took out the garbage and did chores without grumbling, that's boring! I'll read all the exciting stuff, I promise!"

"Oh fine, Mum and Dad always give me stern looks when they read that part anyway. It never changes from story to story, I know it by heart!"

"Well it hasn't done you any good! Now, no interrupting, you're supposed to be asleep by half past, and I'm never going to finish the chapter at this rate."

* * *

"Once upon a time, there was a small boy with messy black hair, bright green eyes, and a lightning bolt scar on his forehead - hang on, don't they ever change _anything_ in the introduction?"

"Nope. It's always the same, that's how I'll know if you skip some!"

"But that's rubbish, even I could do better'n that! Look, I'll try it: Right now there lives a little boy with hair as black as a...blackboard, and eyes that were the colour of toads."

"Toads are ugly though! They're all brown and stuff! _Frogs_ are the green ones!

"Oh is that right, is it? And how do you know that, squirt?"

"Luna's dad told me! He knows heaps about animals, he's written books and owns a newspaper! He showed me a book about pond creatures after I didn't know what frogspawn was. So there! You don't know everything about animals, Mr Smarty!"

"Well….I meant pickled toads! Toads are always green after you pickle them, just like lobsters go red when you cook them!"

"...really?"

"Oh yes, for sure! They're brightest when they're freshly pickled, but they do go all brown and faded if they're too old. Tonk's cauldron melted because my toads were too old - Snape said we should have noticed they were the wrong colour."

"Oh ok - so his eyes are as green as freshly pickled toads, and his hair as dark as a blackboard. That's more interesting than the same old boring introduction."

"Hey, that sounds better than the way I put it! Sounds like a poem. You should try writing some Harry Potter Poetry, Ginny, maybe one day you could sell it and become rich."

"If I did, I'd buy my own brooms and not let any of you boys fly them!"

"You can't do any flying, you're too little! Maybe you can next summer."

"Harry Potter can fly!"

"Well, he's the Boy-Who-Lived, so he's allowed to!"

" _Charlie!_ Don't upset your sister, just read her the story before her temperature goes up! Ginny, it's time for your medicine."

"Fine, fine.."

* * *

 **"** **Mum! The twins stole my diary! They're laughing at what I wrote!"**

"FRED! GEORGE! GET HERE RIGHT NOW!"

"tattle-tale!" "Yes mum!" "We're coming, it was just" "a joke!" "We thought it was Charlie's old notebook" "We didn't realise Ginny used it when we took it!"

* * *

"Here you are, Ginny dear. The twins will be apologising to you when they've finished cleaning the bathroom, but they didn't mean to steal your stuff, they just wanted Charlie's old notes."

"Well, I wish I had a diary of my own! One no one could ever read. There wouldn't be any mistakes then!"

"Well, maybe we can get you one of your own when you go to Hogwarts, diaries are very useful for girls away from home at school. I understand you've been writing some poetry – I used to write some when I was a young girl too, so never mind the boys."

"Really, mum? To dad?"

"Well, not all of it – I didn't realise I was going to marry your father until Fifth Year – I had a crush on a boy named Septimus Bones when I was 12. Now, come give me a hand with the washing, dear."

* * *

"Mum, can't I _please_ go to Hogwarts with Ron? It's not fair I have to wait! Fred and George get to go together, I'm only a little younger than Ron!"

"No Ginny, you can't start Hogwarts until you turn 11, I'm sorry, but those are the rules."

"But I'll be so lonely all by myself! It's not fair! Everyone else had someone younger when they got left behind! Please mum! I can take an Aging Potion for just a few months, they wont know!

"No Ginny, Aging Potions are far too dangerous for young children. Besides, I'll be lonely here too, you know. I won't have _any_ children at all. I can't lose both my babies at once, it wouldn't be fair to me, either."

"But you and dad have each other; I won't have anyone my age. And Harry Potter is starting Hogwarts! I could be in the same year as him! Pleeeease mum!"

"Really Ginevra, do stop harassing Mother like that. Rules are rules, and if we all broke them as we saw fit, the entire world would be destroyed by Fred and George. Besides, you have your friend Luna. Mother, have you seen my Potions Textbook? I want to double-check my summer homework before the letters arrive."

"Fred and George have it. And Luna's no fun, she's still sad about her mum . I want someone to have fun with!"

"Oh no, not my textbooks! Those cretins are NOT messing with my textbooks!"

"PERCY! Sorry Ginny dear, I have to stop your brothers killing each other."

* * *

24/08/1992

"Dear Diary, my name is Ginny Weasley. I am 11 years old and am going to Hogwarts in one months time. I finally have my wand, though it isn't new. It belonged to Gran – I don't really remember her very well, but she was very good at magic and I hope I will be too. I would have liked a new wand, but I am glad it belonged to such a strong witch. You are the only thing I have that didn't belong to another Weasley or Prewitt, except for my robes and textbooks, but everything is second-hand anyway and clothes and schoolbooks don't count. But that is why you are my new favourite thing, because you are all mine, even though you used to belong to someone called Tom, but he never used you, so that means it's really like a new thing. I am very glad mum bought you for me like she said she would! Only I do wish there was a way to enchant it so only me can read it."

 _"Hullo Ginny. I already am enchanted, and I never belonged to Tom – I am Tom. I am enchanted to talk back to you, so do not fret about privacy. I am very pleased to meet you."_

"Wow! This is cool! I didn't realise you could do that! No one can read what I write at all! Although...I hope I didn't say anything too silly. I can't remember everything I wrote."

" _Not at all, you seem like a very mature young lady. Who are you worried about reading what you write?"_

"Why thank you Tom! My brothers, Fred and George - they're twins, and they already read my poems that I wrote for Harry ages ago, and they threatened to show them to him! They're really mean and if they do I'll hex them both! I wrote them when I was much younger, if he sees any it should be ones I write now I'm older. I found out pickled toads aren't green, even if they are fresh, and Harry would think I was stupid."

 _"I see. I think. Well, I am just a diary, so I don't understand about pickled toads and why their colour is relevant - I'm guessing they feature in your poems? But I assure you, no Freds or Georges or Harrys will be reading me without your permission, so write all the heart-felt poetry you like. I'm sure you're very good at it. You write very well for your age."_

"Really? Everyone thinks I'm just a silly little girl - I'm glad I'm a mature writer at least! My brother Charlie said Harry had eyes are green as a toad, but he didn't know toads were brown, and frogs were green, so he pretended that toads turned green when you pickled them, and I believed him because I was REALLY little then."

 _"Oh, I highly doubt you are anything like a silly little girl - you haven't even written about your hair or your nails! You seem far more interested in magic, which is how it should be. Now tell me about this Harry - you must like him if you're writing poetry to him. Is he your brother's friend?_ "

"Yes, he's Harry Potter, and he's friends with Ron, and they're already at Hogwarts, they started last year. He's really famous, do you know who he is? You might have been made before him."

 _"Harry Potter? No, I don't know him, though I am familiar with the name Potter. But if he is only twelve, then he was..'born?' long after I was..'made'. Do you mean he was made by some new form of magic, or did you just mean before he was born? Why is he famous at such a young age?"_

"Oh dear, I'm sorry, I'm not that good at writing after all! Yes, I meant you were made before he was born. How were you made? Unless it's something icky like how babies are born, then I'd rather not know! Harry Potter defeated a Dark Lord when he was a baby, that's why he's famous. No one else could kill him, not even Dumbledore, and he's really powerful, but when You-Know-Who tried to kill Harry, Harry defeated him instead. There are lots of story books about him, but I think they're all made up, though I used to think they were real when I was little. But he is really brave, last year Dumbledore had something really secret and special hid inside Hogwarts and You-Know-Who himself was after it and Harry stopped him and defeated him again! Do you know Dumbledore?"

 _"I'm familiar with Dumbledore. Is he the Headmaster now? Who is this Dark Lord? I'm afraid I'm not familiar with him at all. However did this young Harry defeat him? He must be very impressive, Dumbledore has defeated Dark Lords before."_

"Oh, his name is Lord Voldemort, but everyone's too afraid to say his name, so they say You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Harry says his name though, so I think I can write it at least - but I dont like using it! Yes, Dumbledore is the Headmaster. I suppose you never attended Hogwarts, being a diary - I was about to ask who was Headmaster when you went! How do you get the knowledge you have? Did someone own you before after all? Oh dear, perhaps I should take you to Dad - you might be Dark."

 _"No no, I'm not a Dark object at all - I'm simply an enchanted diary that records people's memories and talks back like a friend. I first belonged to the real Tom Riddle - so I hold all his memories safe, and all the words and magic I know comes from those memories. But you are the only other friend I have ever had, so I do hope you don't throw me out - it's been so long since Tom grew up, it's been a little lonely."_

"Oh dear, that's really sad! Well, I know Fred and George have something similar that talks back to them, only it has more people, so I guess it's ok. Do you know lots of magic? What was Tom like? The other Tom I mean, not you. Can I still call you Tom, or do you want a new name?"

 _"Well, I'm afraid I promised Tom I wouldn't share his memories, just like I promised you, so I cannot tell you anything about him. Why don't you tell me more about yourself, instead?"_

"Oh of course! I didn't think of that! I'm so glad you keep your promise even when Tom doesn't use you any more! Now I know you'll keep my secrets. Oh dear, mum's calling me for dinner, but I'll write more later! Bye Tom!"


	2. Chapter 2

Dear Tom,

Well, I made it! I'm in Gryffindor! I was so nervous, but I've made it! I'm in the same House as Harry now. He still doesn't pay me much attention though. There's a boy in my class called Colin Creevy, and he's read all about Harry just like me, except he isn't shy around him. I don't think Harry quite likes all the attention Colin gave him - perhaps it's a good thing I get so silly around him, he wouldn't like it if I fussed over him. Still, Colin seems nice, though I don't need another friend apart from you. The other girls are silly, all talking about nail polish and curls already! We're at _Hogwarts_! I tried talking about Quidditch, but none of them like flying or Quidditch. You were right Tom, you're the only friend I need.

* * *

Dear Tom,

Are you sure there's nothing wrong with me? I do feel so dreadful, and I had the most horrid nightmares - about the other Tom, not you, but the boy. I feel as though I've gotten no sleep at all. I'm going to fail all my homework, I know it. Can you help me? Just a little? You don't have to tell me any of Tom's memories, just tell me if I've gotten things wrong or misspelt things. Please? I can't fail another Transfigeration assignment, mum and dad might find out.

* * *

Dear Tom,

I think I'm going insane. I don't remember what happened at Halloween, but Mrs Norris has been attacked. Why can't I remember Halloween? If I killed Hagrid's roosters, then I could have attacked Mrs Norris, but I don't know how to petrify cats, I don't know enough magic. If Dumbledore couldn't revive her, it must be REALLY powerful magic, so it _can't_ have been me. I'm not very good at magic, I've not been doing well in class at all. What do you think Tom?

* * *

Dear Tom,

It's terrible! Poor Colin has been attacked! Oh, I do hope you still think it cannot have been me, because now a person has been petrified! Someone I know! I know I complained about him harassing Harry a lot, but I still liked him - and he helped me with Charms.

* * *

Good Bye Tom!

* * *

 _Hullo Ginny. Miss me? It wasn't very nice to throw me down a toilet - through the girl I killed, no less._

It's where you belong! In a toilet! Wait, Myrtle? You killed her? But I thought you were just a diary - how could you have killed her?

 _Yes, I said that so you'd trust me. Could you imagine it, oh no, I'm a real person, I'm just trapped in a diary. You'd have gone running off to your parents, despite my compulsion charms, and the Department of Mysteries would have me in no time. Worked nicely, didn't it?_

Well it won't work now! I'll tell everyone! I don't care if I get in trouble for it, I won't hurt anyone else!

 _Really? You'll be expelled you know. You wand will be snapped. You'll probably even go to Azkaban. Your father certainly will, and probably your mother too. It's their fault too, after all. They shouldn't have given their child such a Dark object. They'll think your father got it on one of his little raids. That's a criminal offense, you know, keeping confiscated Dark artifacts._

No!

 _Oh yes. You didn't think I'd tell you without some kind of insurance, did you? Your family will hate you. With your father in Azkaban, and your mother disgraced, Perfect Percy's career chances will be zero. He'll hate you for that. Your beloved Bill and Charlie will have to support their younger siblings, and they will hate you for that. Ron will hate you for making him even poorer. You thought Fred and George were mean to you? They could be so much worse. Harry will hate you._

 ** _You cannot tell anyway. I am too strong now._**

* * *

You STUPID child! Did you really think you could WARN Harry Potter? I will not let you! Come! Enough of this! We are going to the Chamber.

STOP fighting me you stupid child!

No! Not Harry! NOT HARRY!

No, not Harry. More mudbloods, I think. Your know-it-all friend I think - she is close to Harry Potter, after all.

STOP that you stupid child! I am too strong!

Not Hermione! No! I wont, I..

 _~Speak to me Salazar, greatest of the Hogwarts Four~_

No! NO! I won't let you use me!

Stop this at once, you foolish child, or I'll tell her to eat you!

Help me! Someone help me! Godric, Rowena, Helga, help me!

The Sorting Hat? Where did this come from? Oh look, a sword. Lovely. Salazar left a basilisk, and Godric left a sword and a hat! Well child, you have your help. Now ENOUGH!

NO!


	3. Chapter 3

NO!

Ginny spun, eyes tightly shut, and thrust the sword blindly at the Basilisk. Luck was with her - she hit the eye, and rammed the sword in deep. The Basilisk, believing she was safe under the command of her Master, never had a chance. She screamed, and thrashed wildly - fortunately away from Tom, who had regained control in his fury.

There are many accounts of people getting impaled through the eye socket and living. Most are of course, due to the fact that the object never made it into the brain, but there are cases of that happening also. Indeed, one Phineas Gage is a fascinating example of a case where an iron bar went straight through his brain, from beneath his cheek bone through and out the top of his skull - and failed to kill him. The basilisk was not so fortunate. A short seizure, and she was gone - even as her body still convulsed. It did not take very long, as one watching from a distance, or reading an account, would see it. For both Ginny and Tom, it seemed to last forever. The scream seemed to continue echoing around the Chamber, while the thrashing seemed to last an eternity to those in danger of being crushed - Tom's biggest concern. Ginny was screaming on her own account - Tom's rage felt like fireworks exploding inside her brain, that would not have allowed her to see anything besides bright lights even if she or Tom wished to open her eyes. The death of a 1000 year old basilisk, bred by Salazar himself, was infuriating enough as it was - but being defied by a stupid little 11 year old while he was _in possession_ of her was the worst offence. His anger burned long after the monster had collapsed and started to cool.

Eventually Ginny found herself regaining consciousness - incredibly sore, bleeding from her nose and lips, and exhausted, but alone in her head. The Diary was lying a couple of feet away, and she glared at it. She was NOT picking it up again this time. She didn't know why Tom had left her - he'd sworn that after the trick she'd pulled last time, she'd never be left completely alone again, but she didn't care, she was free. The Monster was dead, and Hermione was safe. Tom couldn't petrify anyone else - telling her his plans had been a big mistake! No one would ever find the Diary down here in the Chamber, and Harry would be safe. She wanted the Diary further away from her, but she didn't want to touch it even with her foot or her wand, so she slowly and painfully shuffled, rolled, and dragged herself away, slowly figuring out which movements didn't hurt quite so bad. Of course, the minute she started to move away from it, the Diary began to 'call' her back to it, but she ignored it. She was feeling too delirious with happiness at her successes to fall back under _that_ compulsion in a hurry - or even to mind her pains and aches that much. Her only friend outside of her family and Colin Creevy was safe - with a slight shock she realised that Colin and Hermione were the only two to push past her Tom-imposed loneliness and befriend her.

Tom had wanted her alone so no one would notice! Tom had deliberately guided her into alienating all her dorm-mates, and she doubted any of them would want to be her friend now, not after everything she'd done. Colin certainly wouldn't want to talk to her any more, after she'd petrified him, and Hermione probably wouldn't either. As for Harry...Harry would hate her. He'd defeated Tom two or three times (she'd heard Ron refer to the time Harry had met him in the Forest, but when she'd asked him about it he'd clammed up and told her it was none of her business), and there she was helping him attack muggleborns! She still didn't know _what_ the Diary was, but she knew it was a younger Voldemort, who had somehow decided to make sure he was able to finish what he couldn't while he actually attended Hogwarts.

She was incredibly thirsty. Her throat was dry from screaming, and her robes were damp with sweat as well as slime. She wished she could conjure water, but that was at least a sixth year spell - she supposed she'd just have to wait until she got back up to the bathroom. In the meantime, she wasn't going anywhere - she doubted she could even crawl on her hands and knees.

The...the Sorting Hat? Where did that _come_ from anyway? She didn't even remember how it came, just that it appeared on her head, and the sword came down and hit her. Perhaps she should go pick it up and see if it could tell her. It was quite far away though...nearly as far away as Tom, and while it wasn't very long, her limbs were quite trembly, and she couldn't even stand. Perhaps she should leave, Dumbledore would be down for the Diary anyway, he'd be able to get the Hat. Wait...the Hat sang. Bloody idiot, the Hat sang! It only spoke into your mind for privacy, it didn't _need_ to be on your head to talk. Not that it was saying anything. Just sitting there. Maybe it only sang when McGonagall charmed it to.

Perhaps she should stop _thinking_ so much in circles and just try talking to it.

Right. She could do this. Granted, the Hat was a magical thing that could talk into your head, but it was also very old, probably as old as the castle, and hadn't possessed anyone yet.

"Hat! Can you hear me?"

Well, she wasn't consciously planning on doing that, she was busy worrying about talking to it but her mouth went ahead and spoke anyway. Dammit she wasn't possessed already was she? Merlin but her voice was croaky. She tried again.

"Hat! Sorting Hat? Are you there?"

And….it almost seemed to happen in slow motion, Ginny's nerves were so pent up, the rim of the Hat started to open into a mouth.

" **HAT!** "

"Alright child, alright! What's the fuss? No panicking please! You've had the Sword for quite some time now, so I imagine whatever danger there is has passed. Where are we? Why don't you put me on?" the Hat seemed to almost peer around as it talked. "We're certainly not in the Headmaster's office; there don't seem to be any portraits around."

Well, thank goodness for that. A sudden wave of calm seemed to almost collapse onto her, forcing her to slump in relief. The Hat sounded so calm, so matter of fact, so _not in her head_ , that she no longer felt on the verge of hysterics. But at the same time, she found herself crying. The compulsion had faded, and she no longer had to unconsciously fight back against it. Between sobs, she rambled – everything. Everything she'd been unable to tell anyone for months, without even realising Tom had been preventing her from doing it. Not quite everything, after all – she wasn't going to 'pour her soul out' again so soon, but all the facts. How they were in the Chamber of Secrets, and it had been her opening it all this time, but she hadn't known it because she'd been writing in You-Know-Who's diary. How she'd tried to tell someone, but he'd gotten mad and tried to make her petrify her friend, but that she didn't want to, and the Hat had appeared and given her the sword. How she'd stuck the Sword into the Basilisk, and that Tom had been very furious, but wasn't inside her head any more, even though she didn't know why, but that he kept calling to her, but she wasn't going to pick him up again, and she was going to leave but she was very tired and sore so it might take awhile. Oh, and thank you for the Sword, and how in the name of Merlin's saggy tit did it get here?

"Right then!" said the Hat. "I think I've got a handle on what happened...an enchanted diary you say? Of young Voldemort? Well well, never mind child, no 11 year old is able to keep a Dark Lord out of their heads. As for how I came...well, you asked Godric for help. I was his hat, you see, and he enchanted me to be useful in a lot of ways, including as a sheath. I wasn't sentient at the time he started doing that, it was one of his very first uses for me. It was talking about that that gave him the idea to _start_ enchanting me to be useful. After enchanting me to hold the Sword, he decided I was no good hanging up on a hat stand, so I became enchanted to come when he called for me. After he retired from the business of sword-fighting and became more interested in protecting the castle, the enchantments were added so I came if someone asked Godric for help, in addition to several other conditions, all of which you either didn't need or qualified for. My job is to then see if you are worthy of bearing the Sword, and fetch it if you are. Which you were, and I'm extremely proud to see I judged correctly! I do not think anyone before has ever used the Sword for a more Gryffindor purpose! Killing the Beast Salazar left behind, that is exactly the sort of thing we were enchanted for! We didn't take his threats idly, let me tell you! What a shame the legend of the Monster lasted, but not the Protections the other three left. Well well, at last! The Sword has slain the Serpent! This _is_ a fine story! Young Ginevra Weasley, you may stop crying right now, because songs will be sung about you and your heroism! No one will put the Serpent Slayer in Azkaban!"

It was all very comforting, and Ginny was extremely glad he kept talking on, because the flood of tears just would not stop. She suspected the Hat had heard about Bill's "don't think about water whilst in the desert" advice, and was applying it much the same way she had to emotions and thoughts. It didn't have to comfort a crying girl if it was explaining everything extremely thoroughly. _Now_ , it was explaining the threats Salazar had made regarding what would happen if a Muggle ever set foot inside the castle and how that had set off one of many fights between the four. Eventually, she found herself just too tired to carry on weeping, and also believing the Hat just a little bit – not the part about being made famous, but at least that killing the Basilisk and escaping Tom would mean her family wouldn't hate her. If that really was Gryffindor's Sword, they might even be proud of her a little bit. Feeling somewhat better, she sat up. Noticing this, the Hat broke off in the midst of a tale that sounded extremely unlikely about how the Headmaster's office's gargoyle was actually Salazar's hat transfigured after Helga lost her temper.

"Hullo! That's more like it! Nothing wrong with a few tears, but you are Gryffindor's heir after all! Now, it feels very damp and drafty down here, so we'd better make our way back. The sooner Dumbledore can deal with that diary, the better! You'll feel much better with some hot food and drink in you, too. You'll be able to tell your friend you saved her, too."

With the Hat chattering encouragement, clearly expecting to be picked up, and having made Ginny feel so much better and _not alone_ , leaving it because it was a mere six foot away and only three feet from the Diary was far from her thoughts. She staggered to her feet, using the basilisk to steady herself, and tottered over to the Hat. She was slightly reluctant to put it on, but as if sensing this, the Hat piped up and told her to go ahead.

"One of the very first things I was enchanted to protect against was possession – Godric and Rowena were compiling ideas and enchantments to use on headgear when they had to go fight a series of malevolent spirit that was tormenting a Muggle village. They got the idea then of enchanting things to protect people against it, and tested the enchantments on me. I'm afraid I can't fight it off if you're already possessed, or even detect it, but I can stop weaker spirits from getting in in the first place. Pop me on, you won't find him bothering you. Ah, there we go! I can feel him trying to get back in, but I can tell why he can't – he's too weak from fighting you. He had to leave you to recover. Thinks you won't be able to resist him. Well, that'll be a nasty shock for him!"

All of a sudden, Ginny's head cleared without her even realising it was cloudy. The obsessive _thinking_ she'd be employing to stop thinking about Tom, the Basilisk, Azkaban and everything, suddenly became light, as though whatever it had been pounding against was suddenly gone. It was then she realised she'd been fighting Tom the whole time, but that he'd tried to be subtle about it. She felt a thousand pounds lighter, and less likely to keel over and collapse. Fighting off possession was _exhausting_ and a ' _Thank Godric'_ burst from her lips.

"You're welcome!" replied the Hat brightly. "Dear me, looks like he was sending some very negative thoughts there. You'll feel much better now. Right then, where's the exit? Goodness me, what an extremely large snake! It's a Basilisk! That'll be worth a fortune. Well done! However did you kill it? I wouldn't have thought even Godric's sword could pierce the skin of a fully grown basilisk. Ah, I see, it looks as though you must have gotten it on the face somewhere, perhaps through the eye, or maybe up a nostril. If you'd stabbed it down the throat you'd have lost your arm and...yes, well anyway. It'll be worth a fortune you know, and you'll own part of it, seeing as you killed it."

Ginny, feeling so much better that she was almost bouncing on her toes despite her fatigued legs, noticed the Hat avoided mentioning how she could have died, and was very grateful. She really didn't want to think about that until she could have a hug from Mum. She was, however, puzzled as to why the Hat seemed to be only noticing the snake now – it had been there all along, and the Hat had been facing her. Her answer came without even asking.

"Ah, well you see, I'm a Hat. A very smart Hat, with lots of useful features, capable of many great things, but one thing I'm not capable of is sight. Godric did think of making me able to see in case he got blinded in a fight, but Helga told him he was getting ridiculous and to stop before he created an entirely new magical creature. Of course, that only got Salazar and Rowena interested, but Godric eventually accepted that perhaps Rowena's idea of enchanted glasses was better. So if I were a pair of Rowena's glasses, I could see for myself, but then I could not speak; nor would I be aware of you, none of her glasses were ever given sentience. That means made self-aware, child – goodness me, yes, look, right in the eye! Be careful, now. Grab the Sword, no point leaving it here."

Ginny, wearing the surprisingly chatty Hat, cautiously made her way up to Sofi, avoiding the spattered eyeball, and grasped the Sword. It had sunken in almost completely to the hilt, and she thought maybe she had an idea of some of the enchantments on it – she certainly wasn't strong enough to stick it in that deep, and, as it came out with a disgusting squishy sound, it looked far too heavy for her to be able to wield it. Yet hold it she could. It also looked suspiciously clean. Thank you Godric indeed! Not having to touch basilisk brain or eye was a big plus, as it was undoubtedly dangerous.

"No, surprisingly not." The Hat piped up once again. "Only the fangs are venomous, and the look dangerous. Young basilisks taste surprisingly like chicken, or maybe not so surprisingly. The eyeballs are considered a great delicacy in several countries, and cost an exorbitant amount – very large, child – even more so than for potions ingredients. However, you are correct, the Sword is charmed to be both as light as needed, and to stay clean – it's Goblin steel too, so...oh all right then, let's get going. So you think I sound like a salesperson? Do you think I could sell the Sword? It's charmed to come back to me when called for you know, it wasn't even in Hogwarts when you called for it, I imagine one could earn a lot of money selling the Sword over and over. Oh yes yes, alright, that's not very Gryffindorish of me, but it's not really cheating, they do get use of the Sword. Think of it more as a hire system, only we know people can't get away with 'forgetting' to return it."

Giggling helplessly, and suspecting that was the Hat's goal, Ginny walked up to the doors and pushed.

They didn't open.

She looked for a latch, a keyhole, a bolt.

Nothing.

She shoved harder.

Nothing.

She threw herself against them.

Nothing.

She stepped back and looked all over, looking for anything.

Nothing.

She pointed her wand at it and tried 'Alohomora!'

Nothing.

She shouted it.

Nothing.

"Look for another exit" the Hat suggested

She did.

Nothing.

Frantic, she tried hacking at the door with the Sword.

Nothing.

At the Hat's careful advice and coaching, they tried Alohomora again and again. After all, she'd never cast it before.

Nothing.

They tried passwords.

Nothing.

They tried hacking at the hinges instead of the door itself.

Nothing.

She tried yelling for help from Godric, Rowena, and Helga again.

The Hat sadly informed they hadn't enchanted a magic passkey or portkey to be delivered to those in need.

She asked Salazar to help.

She called for Harry, crying, not truly believing he'd come the way he always had in the stories.

She called for her mum and dad.

She called for Fred and George, who always knew where she was even when she was avoiding everyone.

She called for Percy, who always noticed when she was sick, even when she was pretending she wasn't.

She called for Bill, who had always come when she cried.

She cried.

No one came.

Tom Riddle laughed.

The Hat swore for the first time in its enchantment. 

A/N, so, I've obviously set it up to show she could carry on living for a bit - the Hat might be able to eventually coach her into conjuring a trickle of water, or there might be some source of water in the Chamber - it's damp enough. I know in some fantasy worlds, the Basilisk is extremely poisonous, but really...it's just a chicken! I don't intend Hat to be super powerful. It's just a Hat that the Founders enchanted to be useful. He doesn't know much magic, because he only really became sapient, rather than sentient, after he became enchanted to Sort, and he was enchanted with knowledge of human nature, not spells. He doesn't see very much used in the Headmaster's office, either. Rowena and Helga also have things that can be retrieved in an appropriate emergency, but Ginny doesn't need them. Now, anyway.

I don't know if Hogwarts can call Hat back when it's time for sorting, or if Ginny's really stuck. I think it makes sense that they would add an enchantment that meant the Hat would always be able to return to his job if someone tried to steal him, or he got lost when called to help a student. So maybe Ginny's only down there 'til September the 1st. But I like the idea of her becoming a sort of feral child, with only the Hat and magic itself to save her from total insanity. Feral children fascinate me. And then discovered years later either when Harry eventually figures the entrance out at the Final Battle times, or when Voldy decides to pay the Basilisk a visit and see what happened to Diary.


	4. Chapter 4

"Well. That explains why young Riddle felt comfortable leaving you to regain strength." The Hat grumbled. "The damn door probably doesn't respond to any English password, be it ever so un-guessable. It'll be Parseltongue, and he's the only one who can speak it."

This did not comfort Ginny at all.

"I swore I'd never let him in again, and I won't!" Ginny shouted. "We can figure it out without him! I won't pick him up again, I won't I won't I won't!"

Seeing that she was nearly hysterical - again - by this point, the Hat hastily agreed.

"Oh certainly not! No no, that's not an option at all. The very first thing he'd do is try destroy me, and then I'd be no help to you at all. No, that blasted Diary is not an option. I'm sure the Headmaster will figure out where we are soon, and he's learnt some Parseltongue from me, and in any case, yes well, anyway, someone will find us. All we have to do is sit tight, and wait."

"But...what if they don't come in time? I'm thirsty, and there's nothing to drink down here. Dumbledore never found the Chamber, and it was opened 50 years ago! I can't conjure food! No one even knows what the Monster was, they'll never realize its Parseltongue! I'm dead, I'm never getting out of here alive. Tom's managed to kill me after all."

Ginny slumped down again, feeling defeated and hopeless, suddenly feeling too worn out and overwhelmed to even care. Until she _felt_ indignation and bold surety well up inside her head that was not her own.

"Now, just one moment, young Gryffindor! We are not giving up just yet! You have a wand, don't you? I've seen Headmasters conjure water for a thousand years, I've picked up enough to teach you _that_! You're clearly a powerful young witch, to fight off a possession like that. My Sword is strong enough to skin a Basilisk, I can tell you that. It may not be pleasant, but by Merlin, I am not letting you sit here and give up! We will survive! Gryffindors don't give up, we won't be bested by an upstart Dark Lord who thinks he can control us. He can sit in his Diary like a sulky teen for a thousand years before we give up and let him win. We'll survive by eating his precious Monster. I refuse to let you give up, so you better pick yourself up right now, young lady! First things first, we're sorting out the water problem. Then we're going to take a look around, and see what else is in this Chamber. Could be there is another exit, or drain pipes, a portrait, or anything. Up. Now. Wipe your face - you'll feel better. Now, there's no basin, but we won't worry about trying to transfigure one. The incantation is Augamenti. Practise casting it before you go pointing it at yourself, I think."

Ginny felt slightly better, and sat up straight, pushing her tangled hair back, and wiping congealed snot off her face. In the back of her mind, she secretly thought the Hat was a bit of a bossy talker, much like Hermione except more so, and in her mind. It just never shut up, she could always hear it talking in her mind!

Wait. Oops. In her mind. "Uh, sorry Hat!" she thought, and was rewarded with a grumbling sense of half-hearted indignation.

"I'd have you know that young Hermione numbers among the smartest children, with the biggest potential, that I've seen over the last generation! Anyway, unfortunately this mind reading thing sort of goes both ways, and I can't turn it off. It was supposed to be so I can chat with students as I decide where they go, once I was enchanted for Sorting, I wasn't meant to be worn long-term. I'm afraid you're stuck with me in your head, and I'm stuck with you. There's no way around it. I can sort of shield my thoughts from you, but you can't do the same for me. You're an open book I'm afraid - or should that be an open diar...alright, alright, that was poor taste, I'm sorry."

The way their feelings and thoughts were clashing and interposing over each other, Ginny felt a little bit like the Twins, and if they'd be speaking out loud at this point, they'd probably have ended up not even needing to finish a sentence before the other would understand, respond, and be understood. But in the back of both their minds, was the understanding that it was this, or Tom barrelling away at her mind, trying to get back in, and neither of them wanted that. Her, even less so than the Hat.

Ginny was grateful for the Hat and its help, and felt a fondness towards it as a saviour who had come and helped her, and the Hat in its turn, was doing exactly what it had been enchanted to do - help, and protect students in times of great need. It had missed being an Action Hat, in some ways, and it hadn't been called on in such a long time. It was a most excellent adventure, and a lovely Gryffindor that promised great potential and that had already done a great, legendary-to-be feat. Although the Hat had been enchanted by all four founders, it was always Godric's Hat, and he always had a fondness for his House.

Although he didn't have a name, always being called the Hat, which was more of a title really, and nor did he have a gender, as such, he'd always had a secret dream about being a proper being, called _he_ and _him_ , and possibly even an actual name, and with actual things to do, and places to go, apart from one day a year.

It was a very boring life for a sapient being, stuck on a shelf in the Headmaster's office all the time. His creators couldn't have known of course, but he wasn't like a portrait. He couldn't even see! He viewed the world around him through the mind of his host, and he mostly only got 11 year olds who tended to view things out of perspective. One saw the Great Hall as big as...well, actually, there wasn't a building he was aware of that was as big as he saw it through the little girl's thoughts. If it weren't for the excellent acoustics, he'd probably have no idea of the actual proportions of the extremely intimidating Great Hall - which was actually quite normal sized - or the actual number of students inside. That, and the fact he'd sorted them all previously, too.

Still, there was no getting over the fact that Ginny was a little bit indignant over the diary comment, and she steeled herself, determined to produce water. She didn't know exactly when it was taught, but she knew it was fairly advanced - probably more advanced than even the Twins were. She just hoped it wasn't an OWL charm, but even if it were, she was going to conjure water! She'd sobbed and sobbed, until she had worn herself out, and fell asleep curled on the floor where she was. She'd woken up very stiff and sore, with a throbbing headache, sore throat, and a nagging Hat. And she'd needed to pee. She'd felt very self-conscious about doing it with the Hat, but with many reassurances and half-fibs and whitewashing, she'd tottered over to a corner and done it. She'd used her tie to wipe herself, not knowing any charms to do it, and wished she could vanish pee.

The Chamber would end up very stinky. But there was nothing they could do about that at the moment, although the Hat had assured her that he was familiar with toilette charms, since the Founders didn't have plumbing, or even toilets. Ginny was slightly horrified to hear this, and the long ramble about how wizards and witches would just go in their undies where they stood, and vanish it. The more refined would even use air freshening charms! It was at this point, Ginny had firmly directed the conversation/shared thoughts towards the door and how to open it. And now, she was going to try for water. She was dreadfully thirsty…

"Now then, the spell is pronounced _AH-gwa-MEN-tee._ Practise saying it. Excellent. The wand movement, I believe, is a swish - an S on its side. Down and then up. No sharp flicks, it's a very flowy movement. That's a very open, large movement, but it looks correct - try it now."

Ginny gritted her teeth, and demanded water. She was thirsty, and if this spell didn't work, she was going to die. Simple as that. She needed water, and if she needed to accidental-magic it up, she would! It was life-or-death, she believed, and so she cast, not even allowing the hesitation of doubt. There was no fail. There would be water!

And water there was. A fine mist almost gently emanated from her wand. It wasn't much, it certainly wasn't a stream, but it was water. She, Ginny Weasley, had conjured water. She would live.

Of course, it was a bit difficult to drink a mist, but Ginny wasn't put off. After all, you never got a proper needle first go, unless you were very talented. She pointed her wand at herself, and cast again. The mist was a bit thicker now, as confidence took over from blind desperation, and it felt incredible on her hot, sticky, filthy arms. She was suddenly aware of just how filthy and sweaty she was, and promptly started to remove clothes. A few more casts, and her hands were...cleaner. 'Yes, alright Hat, I'll get them cleaner before I start drinking from them!' an image of Godric with dysentery from eating with dirty hands hastily being banished from both their minds.

Once she deemed her left hand clean enough to drink from, she cupped it and cast a couple of times into it, until the water began to pool up, and then drank.

It was the best thing she'd ever drunk in her life.

After a few excruciatingly long cycles of this, she got fed up and pointed the wand directly at her mouth and cast. Neither she nor the Hat realised what a terrible idea this was, for an 11 year old casting what was actually a sixth year Charm, but fortunately, the stream wasn't powerful enough to worry about control, and choking, and spells backfiring. Although the Hat had noticed, and pointed out, that the mist became a little more flow-like the tighter her wand movement became.

Once she had finally sated her thirst, and soothed her throat, she began washing her face. Eventually, she got fed up, and just removed all her clothes for a make-shift shower. She. Was. Filthy! She had a vague memory of the bathroom, and a pipe, and from the muck all over her it was pretty obvious she'd gone through a sewer.

Getting off her undershirt was interesting, as she refused to remove the Hat, but she squished it down tight, and managed. Fortunately, the Hat thought wryly, he hadn't been enchanted to feel. The closest he came to it was through his host, and it was slightly disconcerting being aware he was being squashed, through someone else's mind!

It was also a good thing, being an item of clothing, that he was completely unaware of the concept of nudity, and shame surrounding it. He was aware that Ginny felt it, of course, he'd certainly felt it when she pee'd, but he felt no embarrassment himself. Ginny herself, felt none presently - she'd gotten over her funk, and was feeling on top of the world now she'd managed what she thought might be a Fourth year Charm. There was no one present, she'd already pee'd with the Hat on her, and fuck Tom Riddle. Pervert had probably seen her naked already, and anyway, he couldn't see her. She wasn't even sure if he could hear her, and the Hat wasn't sure either. After all, the Hat could hear her even when no one wore him, and he had no idea what kind of enchantments were on the Diary. Compulsion Charms, certainly, and possibly an actual spirit in there - although how, since Riddle was now in his 70s and definitely not a teenager, he wasn't sure. He was just the test object, like one of young Andrew Kettleburn's guinea pigs, not the expert on enchanting artifacts! Hmm, he wondered what Kettleburn had gotten up to. Even at age 11, as a Muggleborn wizard, he'd been testing his magic on small animals, much like Tom Riddle had, although Andrew hadn't focused on killing or hurting them. Well, he hadn't heart of a Dark Lord 'Trundle Newt Baker' or 'Darken Butler Newt' or 'Warden Butt Kernel'...hmm, making Dark Lord anagram titles was fun! Lets see, he'd be Tango Shirts - that sounded very exotic, and no one would suspect him of being a ratty old Hat!

At this point, Ginny told him to kindly shut up and stop inventing Dark Lord names, which promptly lead him to devise (terrible) ones for her. "Angel Yew-Yins, Weeny Slaying, Gay Linen Yews, Yawn Eyeing El,"

It was at this point Ginny slapped herself on the head, cushioned by Hat. And then, getting a bright idea, sprayed him with water.

Neither of them had thought they'd be laughing when Ginny had woken up that morning.

A/N - so, I don't seem to be able to do long chapters before I get impatient and think, heck, just post it and see what people think! This is obviously un-beta'd, so excuse any typos. I did try to proof-read. I'm also trying not to have heaps of just pure dialogue, which is a bit difficult for me. Harry learnt Aguamenti in sixth year, but he also learnt the Patronus in third year, and lots of other students managed to make good progress before NEWTS, or even OWLS. And accidental magic can be quite powerful, so I theorise it's not that it's impossible for a young student to learn more advanced magic, especially with desperation driving it. Emotions and mental states do seem to affect ones spell casting ability, as we see from Neville, Seamus, and Harry. Harry couldn't conjure the patronus until he knew he'd already done it, Seamus tended to ignite things subconsciously, showing his pyromaniac tendency, and Neville struggled to cast because he subconsciously believed he couldn't. Ginny was helped by the Hat's presence in her mind, completely believing Ginny would have no trouble learning the Charm, having no idea how difficult it is. He wasn't charmed to be a teacher.

Salazar and Rowena enchanted the Hat to act as a translator, to see if people could speak Parseltongue or other languages with help from an artifact. Such an artifact may exist, but the Hat is not it. He can simply translate, and Albus wanted to learn, so the Hat helped. That's my totally not canon explanation for how Dumbledore learned to understand it. The Hat cannot _speak_ it, and thus, without listening to a snake, he is unable to teach Ginny how to say ~~ _open_ ~~.


	5. Chapter 5 - of little kings and toads

Cleaning charms weren't something the Hat was overly familiar with - he hadn't had one in _quite_ some time, and usually Headmasters were familiar enough with them to use them almost without thinking, silently. Ginny, however, was raised by a stay-at-home housewitch who raised six boys and one tomboy, and had seen many a Scourgify and Tergeo. Especially the Scourgify - Percy was the only one who had never had their mouth filled with soap for swearing. Unfortunately, Tergeo, the simpler charm, simply siphoned off liquid - and although Ginny had plenty of water over her, it wasn't mixing very effectively with the slime and grime all over her - all it did was dry it all out! However, the Scourgify wand-movement was very similar to the water one, simply at a 90 degree angle, and the incantation was simple enough - Ginny found it much easier to produce suds than she had a stream of water.

It was very chilly down in the Chamber, but Ginny had a small, warm ring of fire surrounding her - Bluebell Flames, warm, not hot, impervious to both the wet floor they burned upon, and the soapy splashes of water Ginny dripped over them. Still, it was cold, and she cleaned and rinsed her arms, legs, and neck as quickly as possibly - before realising her filthy, slimy clothes were simply disgusting to put back on. Fortunately, it was still winter, and her robes were thick enough that the slime had not reached her undies - just the damp, and they had mostly dried by this time. Lighter, summer robes would have soaked right through, especially as worn as her second-hand robes always were.

Regardless, now that the excitement of producing water, having a drink and a stand-up wash, had worn off, Ginny found herself hungry, cold, and tired. Her grotty robes felt very uncomfortable, but she knew no drying charm, and simply had not wanted to sit around half naked in the cold while they dried after she attempted to wash them.

The Hat suggested she try eating some basilisk, pointing out it was a delicacy in Egypt, India, and South America, as rich wizards paid thousands of Galleons to export the meat from the only legal farm down in Australia. Apparently Australia didn't rate venomous snakes as terribly dangerous down there - they weren't even considered the worst danger! Ginny thought this was disgusting, and how on earth were basilisks not poisonous?

Apparently, basilisks tasted an awful lot like the chicken they were perverted away from being. The venom came from the toad who fertilised and hatched it - and the potency of the venom actually depended on the type of toad used. All basilisks were venomous, but the type of venom, how quickly it killed, how it affected a victim, and the existence of an antidote depended on the toad. And while the toad's venom was excreted out its pores, the basilisk stored its poison in its mouth only.

The colour and appearance (some had crowns, some had legs - some even had useless wings) also depended on the toad. For example, the basilisks breed (illegally) in the Americas were usually fathered by poison dart frogs, and these tended to be more brightly coloured, and highly venomous - with no antidote. However, the venom could be used to create a painkiller, albeit a black market one. Cane toad basilisks, bred both in the Americas and Australia, were also highly venomous, but an antidote _did_ exist - you just had to be very, very fast with it. Venom was useful both in medicine, and on the drug market.

However, British basilisks, when they were created, tended to be with the common toad. Given that the last one was created 700 years ago, there wasn't really a great deal of data to draw an average from. Common toads fathered killers, and killers only. No useful or exotic potions and medicines could be created from Salazar's monsters, unless one wished to kill. A few toads, around 15% of all species, produced a serpent that only petrified with its gaze, rather than kill. The common toad was not one of those species.

But how, Ginny wondered, did you _get_ a magical creatures, that you could _talk_ to, that lived for a thousand years, from something as commonplace as a chicken egg, and an ordinary toad.

Apparently, toads were actually magical creatures.

Not like dragons, or kneazles, where if they lived in the mundane world, the muggles would definitely become aware of their magical nature. Toads were more like Squibs - magical, but not overly so. After all, the Hat pointed out, they were used in potions - they must clearly have some sort of magic. They became familiars - as did cats, and owls. Dogs didn't. Not the same way. Ravens did. Hawks didn't. But, despite being magical, many, many creatures lived in the muggle world and were never thought of as special. Thestrals had an obviously magical side to them that muggles wouldn't be able to understand, but toads were passively magical, like, cats, and owls. You could breed them, and their offsprings would be magical. Somewhere, very, very far back, Kneazles were once ordinary cats. A wizard owl, and a wild owl, while as genetically similar as a wolf to a dog (there is very little difference), are as widely different as, again, a wolf and a dog (there is a big difference).

Wolves were passively magical. Dogs had descended from them, mostly unmagical, and crups and dingoes had also descended, magical. The Hat had no idea where exactly Cerberus' fitted in.

And toads, ordinary ugly toads, produced dangerous, wild, beautiful, hideous, evil, twisted, magical, savage monsters.

There was a reason toads were considered evil. A reason they stood on the Devil's coat of arms. Considered an ill-omen. Fathering a child who could kill with a look was a pretty unfortunate talent. (the Hat refused to discuss the other creatures a toad could father.)

South America also bred what European explorers called a megabasilias, meaning great king, which fortunately, was _not_ some kind of super basilisk, but instead, a chicken egg hatched by a psychoactive toad, rather than a poisonous toad. They revered it, because a look into their eyes send one into a petrified state for about three months, where one went on an…..interesting psychedelic trip. For three months. While this was apparently great therapy for very mentally ill patients who'd gone through great trauma, it was usually used for recreational purposes. The 'megabasilias' also produced 'venom' that had a similar effect, only one was only out for two weeks, and woke up with terrible withdrawl that usually ended up killing the victim, as the body refused to function without the venom. Potions that were easier to handle, but still very bad for you, were developed from the venom instead.

Apparently, Salazar had been interested in toads.

And their offspring.

If Ginny had known, she'd never have written a poem comparing her crush to them.

She was more disturbed by the Hat's information that, when the three ex-besties heard the rumors about Salazar's Monster, it never occurred to them he'd leave something as non-monstrous as a basilisk. Compared to all the other creatures he experimentally created before destroying (the three whose friendship he'd lost, had insisted none of his experiments made it to adulthood), a basilisk was so easily dealt with. Provided one had a rooster on hand, of course, and conjured roosters worked as well as real. No one, not even Salazar, were aware of how big they could get after a millennia.

No one would ever credit it, but not only were chickens also (passive) magical creatures, they were passively _Dark_ magical creatures. Ok, sure, everyone knew toads got a bad rap. Before they started being seen as lame, everyone knew old, evil witches had a toad as a familiar, who was just as evil as Mrs Norris. But chickens? Ginny's mum kept chickens! Hagrid kept chickens! Everyone ate chicken! Eggs, and chickens, were a staple food. They were so _ordinary._ But apparently, chickens were well suited for dark magic rituals. Just as a unicorn was well suited for light magic, chickens were dark.

Ginny was never calling anyone chicken again.

But as the Hat explained, the chickens themselves weren't Dark, or evil. They just had a natural type of magic about them, the same way a unicorn did, or a cat(although a cat would naturally work better in dark magic than light, it couldn't work at all if it were forced to. A unicorn's magic would work, but twisted and corrupted into the blackest magic when forced to perform light - it could not do dark at all). A chicken could not be used for light magic at all, because its magic was used through it's lifeblood, and innards, and required the chicken's death. The more the chicken objected to the death, the better the magic worked.

Ginny thought she'd heard quite enough about medieval magicks, and decided to try Roast Basilisk Tail. 

* * *

A/N - sticking to the books uniform - plain black proper robes, with undies under. None of this ordinary school uniform under an open robe stuff. All the stuff about basilisks are things I made up on the fly late at night as I sat typing. Obviously, isn't canon at all. Neither is the eatable basilisk, but I'm quite sure it's a thing in some fantasy worlds. And it makes sense. Basilisks are half-chicken, half-toad, stuck in the tadpole stage, and the only venom glands are in mouth. It's a bizarre hybrid, and the only explanation is that both creatures have some magic, and toads are very familiar in the mundane world as magicky, and everyone knows chickens are used in black masses.


End file.
